


INTERLUDE 2

by TheAnderfelsOne



Series: INTERLUDE... [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Inspired by upcoming fanfiction, Interlude, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5293073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnderfelsOne/pseuds/TheAnderfelsOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The harbinger of an upcoming story part 2...</p>
            </blockquote>





	INTERLUDE 2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SerAndersPoutyMouth (nuneenu1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuneenu1/gifts).



> The second interlude I wrote for the hon.  
> No need to say again that this is not the official thing and just the figement of my inspiration towards her story.  
> So again, thank you so much for inspiring this, it did me a lot of good writing it and I'm glad you enjoyed it <3

 

 

“By the way, I’m getting married.” 

Fenris straightened his back suddenly. But however flummoxed his expression was, Hawke didn’t even notice it from where he was fixing his belt facing the mirror atop the chest drawers. So Fenris tried to voice out his gobsmackedness.

“What?!” he paused then lowered his tone a notch, “You mean to the physician doctor?”

“Yeah, Anders. Who else.”

Fenris stared at him with parted lips in sheer surprise. It wasn’t like he didn’t know Hawke was dating again. He knew about this ‘Anders’ in his life for a few months now. Hard not to when he called and texted sometimes in the middle of sex. Other times it was even Hawke who made the call. Just to make sure the man didn’t need anything or even to confirm a fucking date, telling Fenris to be quiet while he talked and making him grit his teeth in the process.

No, it wasn’t hard to see that Hawke was dating again. Ever since Fenris had snooped around his phone once while Hawke was in the shower - unlocking the password he once saw Hawke quickly tapping. That day Hawke had just ended a call with this famous ‘Anders’ for whom he was planning to pick takeout. And Fenris knew it was the serious deal just by unlocking the phone and stumbling on his picture in the unlocked wallpaper screen.

It had been of a man. Young looking and blond with faint dark-blond stubble. A frontal picture, laughing at the camera and looking caught off-guard. Immediately something heavy had sunk in Fenris’ stomach when he had looked him up. He hadn’t needed to go through the messages section. All his worries were confirmed just by staring at that sunshiny smile alone.

The thing was, it hadn’t been like Fenris wasn’t aware of Hawke's datings on the side. ‘Cause yes, ever since he started to ‘frequent’ Fenris, the latter had seen his share of Hawke Lovers come and go; but in the three years he’d known him so far, nothing had ever screamed _threatening_ as this time.

Threatening for many reasons and one of them was the incomprehensibility of _how someone like that came around Hawke’s entourage._

Someone so… ordinary.

Oh it wasn’t like Hawke had a type. Through the years, Fenris had seen him at the arms of so many different kind of people - men and women combined. Hawke was actually pretty popular for his gaudy bisexuality that didn’t fail to enthrall the society pages’ love of creating juicy scoops and extravagant titles for the front magazines each time Hawke _‘switched sexes again!’_

It wasn’t even about their appearances. Fenris had seen him with blondes, brunets, red heads and even with that girl with lavender dyed hair once. It wasn’t about their style either, even though Hawke did hobnob a lot with the upper society and the glittery world of actors, showbiz and businessmen alike. It wasn’t for nothing that Hawke was a glamorous icon from East to West Coast.

Which had brought Fenris to the picture he had under his eyes; and there wasn’t anything glamorous about the man staring back. In fact he had faint shadows under his eyes that could have had something to do with the fact that he was wearing a scrubs top, and the kind of stubble that displayed a clearly lack of time for a proper shave.

And still, despite all those little flaws and the unsophisticated blue scrubs attire, Fenris had begrudgingly been able to see why _this_ one Hawke had _bothered_ to put on his wallpaper screen.

And it was what had made his guts churn.

That smile was refulgent. He could almost hear the way that laughter must have sounded like. As unbidden and goofy-adorable as his whole expression.

It was simple. Everything about him was dazzling. His shining yellow hair pulled loosely into a half ponytail with blond strands framing his face from the sides, his crinkling eyes that couldn’t possibly be that golden unless by some trick of the sun, his greek nose, the outline of his jaw, the pouty bottom lip - everything. And it was disgusting.

He was too fair, too pale to not be sprouting a single imperfection. He wasn’t a woman to say he was embellished with makeup products. Even his teeth looked like a toothpaste commercial. He was just… beautifully natural.

And it was what made the siren alarm go off in Fenris’ head. The man wasn’t like any of that glossy quality of people he’d been used to see Hawke dating. How had Hawke even happened around such a guy? 

Fenris knew Hawke’s side business. He helped him now and then when Hawke called upon his skills when he was short on the workforce. So how someone like that… who wasn’t part of the glitterati and nor of the shady side of Hawke’s work popped into the picture all of a sudden? And from what Fenris had picked upon the screen picture, the man was a doctor or something related. So how came some mundane doctor entered Hawke’s life?

And also, how could Fenris stand a fucking chance?

Because what must be known was that ever since getting involved with Hawke, Fenris had experienced feelings for the dark haired, powerful man that only grew stronger and spilling on emotional with time. Of course it had started when Hawke first had sex with him, but it never evolved into the ‘something more’ Fenris secretly hoped for every time Hawke texted him to ‘blow some steam’. 

He knew what he was. After all, when you were called once or twice a month unpredictably just to fuck, or when you sucked the guy in a back alley while he smoked a well-done-job cigarette and left you with no much than a _‘See ya’,_ you kind of figured out what you represented to the other party. And yet, he had kept hope even after seeing what the current concurrence looked like because Hawke hadn’t stopped calling him and perhaps this was going to be like all his other relationships.

But getting _married?_

“But are you sure? It’s been like what, three months?”

Hawke shifted to his dress shirt, buttoning it up with his head slightly tipped to the side, eyes never leaving the mirror. “Three months that he practically moved in with me, so yeah I guess I’m pretty sure.”

Of course to anyone else that would have sounded utterly silly, but in Hawke’s case, it spoke volumes of the heaviness of this relationship. Fenris himself had never been to Hawke’s loft and neither any of his past conquests had gone so far as to move in with him – and some had been Hawke’s lover much more than _three_ paltry months!

Fenris couldn’t help but peeve. He moved to the edge of the bed, eyes narrowed behind his white bangs, “So what? He’s the one you decided to settle down with?”

“Yeah, he’s the one.” And though Hawke said it unassumingly, Fenris could still decipher the slight change of tone when Hawke uttered ‘the one’- the way he gazed at his reflection in the mirror. As if he couldn’t believe it yet himself.

“You really love him?” He knew it was a mined question. But he couldn’t keep himself from asking it. There wasn’t thirty six thousand ways around it, so he blurted it straightforward, knowing fully how the answer was going to hurt like a dull knife.

And the answer was given in flat, cutthroat quality worthy of the most ruthless man wearing a one thousand dollar suit while cutting deals with guns trafficking organizations. “Wasn’t that obvious when I told you to be quiet while I was on the phone with him?”

Fenris threw him a withering look. His fist on the sheets was starting to verge on dangerous for his blood circulation’s good and in that instant, he wanted nothing more but to throttle Hawke. Throttle him and then kiss the shit out of him and tell him he would do anything he’d want to. He’d shank anyone for him. He’d help cover up any crime for him, if only he’d just—

He looked at him deeply, Hawke looking back with his dark eyes, half buttoned up shirt that hid the sinewy muscles he had no right to mark and cool, sadistic demeanor - and he realized that yes, he would do anything for this man. If just so that for once it was to him that Hawke would bring takeout to as he came for a dry fuck.

But how could you overshadow the sun itself. How could he beat a life-savior while he was just a rascal living on not really lawful jobs? How could he beat that disgusting beaming face without using his actual fists?

He had nothing on that man and he knew it. And yet, _yet,_ he had hoped. Because Hawke was still here. In _his_ house.

“So why are you here? If you love him, shouldn’t you be keeping your juices for him?”

Hawke turned to fix his cuffs. “It’s not about love,” he said as he checked his reflection, “The thing is, sometimes, Anders comes home totally frazzled and sometimes I have a day full of adrenaline and I need to get it out of my system,” he grabbed his leather jacket from the nearby chair and sprayed some of his own cologne as he went on, “But I can’t ask that of Anders while I can see that all he wants to do is knock himself out. And I’m just happy to see him rest.” And a soft little smile – the rare kind of smile - escaped his lips while saying so.

Oh. Somehow that answer made Fenris crestfallen even more than he ever thought he’d be. It wasn’t like the unconcerned and indifferent reasons he went for in his past relationships. Because as fucked up as it was, this time, it was Hawke’s way of being… compassionate. Considerate.

It was his way of loving.

‘Cause he could get his rocks off all he wanted on the side - in the end it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he would always come back home to dote on and snuggle with his fiancé.

Fenris understood then that _this_  was the unique shard of Garrett Hawke he was allowed to get.

“So are you planning on being faithful once you’re _married_?”

“Well… that’s the plan.” And Hawke had actually the gall to knavishly smirk at him.

Fenris snorted and stood. He put on his pair of black boxer briefs and advanced towards the larger man. When he was at arm’s reach he slid in Hawke’s personal space and put both hands on his shoulders while dropping his voice to a low rumble, “You won’t have those… urges anymore?” If he couldn’t have him for himself, then he would make damn sure Hawke keeps cheating on with him.

Serves that pretty, pretentious asshole right.

But then Hawke startled him by shoving him away. The other man frowned at the sudden spurning look Hawke shot him.

“Get off me, I just put cologne on and I don’t have time to take another shower, if you haven’t noticed, I still have Mexican food to order, so lay off.”

Fenris, bruised in his ego turned to stamp away, looking for his own damn clothes. Fuck him and fuck his Mexican food. He _tsk_ ed full of acrimony, “Beware Hawke; you’re losing your edge. Don’t want a pretty slut to make you run errands now.”

“ _Shut the fuck up._ ”

It made Fenris stop in his tracks from the icy snarl and turn to find a scathing look verging on extremely dangerous - being a witness to what kind of actions that glower entailed – rooting him on the spot.

“If you _ever_ insult him again I swear I’ll fucking gut you and leave your entrails on the nightstand for whomever the fuck comes find you first,” He spat with hellfire eyes and turned sharply to shove his phone on his pocket and stride towards the front door, opening it sharply.

“Wait!” Fenris gasped and went after him, “Wait, _Garrett_ please, I’m—I’m sorry okay, I…” Fuck. He hated it. He meant every word he had said and it fucking scorched to take it back but Hawke was the man he was desperately in love with. The man who treated him like shit and called him for a quickie or a rough fuck and went on his merry life. The man who speeded his heart with his dark gaze and powerful demeanor. The man who was about to settle down with someone else.

He tried to grab his arm. “I apologize,” and tried to muster his most sorry face while wishing he wouldn’t look on the verge of despair or tears or spill his guts on his fucking threshold.

Hawke’s eyes flicked to his hand grasping on the sleeve of his leather jacket then to Fenris'. He paused there and something passed through his features. Something thoughtful that turned into a very malignant smirk. The close by street lamp illuminated his face in angles that gave him that dangersome look again, making Fenris’ senses heat up and paradoxically chill his blood on the slight.

Then Hawke canted a bit and said low and husky into the evening night, “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, Fenris. ‘Cause if there’s one thing I don’t appreciate, is someone bad-mouthing Anders. And you know why? Because the guy who’ll have the right to talk shit about such a pure’n wholesome person isn’t _born_ yet.” 

“Hawke…”

But the man continued unyielding, “So for your general well-being Fenris, don’t pull that foolish stunt again. ‘Cause Anders’ so out of your league you’re playing a complete different sport,” He drawled with a dark, seductive tone and a crooked smile - and even if Hawke was close enough to kiss, and even if cool puffs of air escaped his lips from the wintry weather and smooched on Fenris’ cheeks, he felt red, angry flames lick him sultrily inside out.

He was already aware of the big gap between him and the blond man. But having it graphically asserted by Hawke himself was the final, visceral blow to his heart.

He let go of the leather sleeve slowly.

“There’s a Mexican restaurant just a few blocks down at the turn of the corner.”

Hawke regarded him listlessly before saying, “Thanks.” baring one canine tooth he had on the top side of his jaw – effortlessly adding feral effect for him.

Fuck him but the man was cut sharp.

“When will I see you?”

Hawke snorted as if that was a dumb question and raised an eyebrow. When he saw it was an earnest query he scoffed, releasing another cold puff of breath, and did that menacing eye-narrowing of his, “I’ll call you when I’ll need you like always. You think I keep a fuckin’ agenda?”

“Fine,” he yielded.

Fine. He would let Hawke have his little fairy tale for now, Fenris decided internally. There was no point in getting cross with him. It will only result in pushing Hawke away from him once and for all and he couldn’t bring himself to imagine that. But deep inside, he knew that no one could possibly be _pure_ like Hawke had just described like some stupid sanctimonious priest.

Oh but what Hawke didn’t know was that Fenris was as cutthroat as him on that level. That was why Hawke called for his professional services and he should know better that Fenris had never backed down from a challenge. Fuck his marriage. Fuck his sickening blond whore of a fiancé. After all, No one around Garrett Hawke stayed fucking _pure_ for so long.

And as Hawke jumped in his sleek black S-class coupe Mercedes and took off with soundless speed - not even bothering with goodbyes – what Fenris was seeing was only his personal shard of happiness leaving downtown for the city lights where his real boyfriend awaited.

His hand clutched on itself.

A shard he was determined to get back at _any_ cost.

The front door opened followed by a clatter of keys dropped on the console table.

“I’m home,” Hawke called out in a pleasant tune as he strode onwards, two bags with giant tacos drawn in them in hands.

“M’here!”

Hawke walked past the corridor to enter the open and spacious great room space empty of all but sofas and coffee tables and a giant plasma screen against the left wall that didn’t had floor-to-ceiling windows.

Anders was near neither. His blond head poked from the adjacent hall where the bedroom was.

Hawke deposed the food on the island counter that separated the kitchen from the living and took quick steps towards his fiancé.

“Hi,” Anders greeted him with a wide grin, quickly being scooped into Hawke’s arms as soon as the dark haired man was at reach.

“Hey, babe.” Hawke kissed him tenderly, arms snaking around his naked back. Anders’ hands cupped his bearded face and he hummed into the languorous kiss before pulling back with one last peck. “You just took a shower?”

“Yeah, I just came home thirty minutes ago. When I hung up with you I got called back to the hospital. Some emergency case they wanted to council with the physicians and doctors before tomorrow.”

“Oh that’s cool - I brought spicy food.”

Hawke ushered them to the center of the house in an awkward moving embrace that worked with Hawke leading Anders from behind with arms wrapped around his chest. “Mm… you smell fucking good,” he added with his nose stuffed in damp strands of hair.

Anders chuckled as he was steered to the large living room in grey cotton sweatpants hanging low on his hips because he hadn’t yet knot the laces on the waistband, and nothing from the waist up.

“Time to stuff this little tummy with food.”

Anders barked a laugh. “Oh my god you just sounded like some Disney villain!”

Hawke changed his voice into a malignant cartoon growl and added, “ _Yeah, so I can cook you and eat you, my dearie. Grrgh,_ ” he growled and bit at Anders’ neck as the latter squirmed in his arms with laughter.

“Oh god, Garrett, how old are you!”

“Old enough to do this,” And all of a sudden plunged his hands in the front of the blond man’s sweatpants.

Anders’ yelped and chocked on more laughter as he was literally groped and licked and nipped from everywhere. 

“Come on, baby, I’m so hungry,” the blond man whined still chuckling and wriggling as his balls were starting to be fondled through his underpants.

“Oh yeah?” It was husked so lowly and throatily that it was impossible not to get the lewd innuendo.

“No sex pun intended,” Anders chided playfully and finally – finally, slid himself off Hawke’s hold.

He picked up the takeout bags, carrying them to the coffee table while Hawke shed his jacket and shoes, and pulled out his belt, throwing them somewhere irrelevant. He was never one to bother with housekeeping and was pretty carefree with the household chores. After all, he had never lifted a finger in his family estate and his favorite young maid from there, Orana, was happy to drop by on the schedule to take care of the elder Hawke’s personal abode.

But ever since Anders practically moved in, Hawke was subconsciously forced to do a little effort and help whenever Anders wanted to do laundry or wash the dishes instead of filling the dishwasher.

In those moments, Hawke couldn’t keep himself from sparing a thought at what his father would say if he saw him hands deep in the soapy sink, scrubbing at a plate of lasagna. But after imagining the disapproving or worse, disdainful scowl that might contort his daddy’s features, Hawke just blocked the thought all together from his mind. He knew it would never affect or change his top dog personality in society - besides, Malcolm didn’t have a saying about how Hawke liked to please Anders.

After all, he didn’t need to know the details of his domestic life with his lover.

“Wanna continue our series?” Anders asked.

Hawke came beside him and flopped on the comfy, fabric sofa. “Yeah. I brought nine different salsas,” he informed.

Anders chuckled, “Wow, I’m impressed.” and he leaned like a Persian cat over Hawke to rumble close to his mouth in pretense, “You’re _so_ tough.”

“The ninth one is actually _me_ ,” Hawke said easily from his sitting position with arms and legs sprawled wide on the large sofa. Anders did that graceless nose-sound laugh and half giggled, smooching the dark haired man’s lips.

“Can’t we manage an adult conversation without sex puns for a minute?” he bemused and backed away to unpack the food.

“’S not easy when you live with the personification of sex on legs.”

“Pffft,” Anders rolled his eyes. As he bent to put the packed food on plates, Hawke nudged his backside with his bare foot, strocking a buttock lewdly. Anders startled but amused let him have his molesting way while he readied everything, and when he finished, turned to face his shamelessly smiling fiancé. This sexy man who swooped him off his feet the moment he had appeared into his life. This man who asked him to move in together after the third date and then marry him over waffles the morning following the senator’s fundraiser party he freaking attended. They of course agreed to wait three other months from then because Anders was a bit baffled and fidgety about jumping off the deep end so quickly.

And also because Anders was nursing a hangover and Hawke decided he could use a better planned context for the official proposal.

Something to do more with a yacht than paracetamol for breakfast maybe.        

But Anders could barely understand it himself. It was just so crazy. Suddenly Hawke appeared and there it was. The thunderbolt. The famous thunderbolt that told you yes. This was the good deal.

Of course between the sheets was a whole other story.

Explosion. Not thunderbolt. Or more like explosion _s_. Yes, if anything the intense sexual attraction and torrid sex was something that left them both blissed out in surprise the first time.

And suddenly he was practically moving in with the man in his luxurious loft in the core of the city and suddenly he was getting engaged to a man who’s family was in the top three hundred fortunes of the nation - not that he had been aware of that until his coworkers showed him the statistical curve on a website. Prior that he had never even heard of Hawke and was more into Cat Fancy and health magazines when regarding cultural aspects.   

And today, his face did the front pages of the society pages in that sneaky way he used to see celebrities being photographed in the street.

He had flipped a little at first because the physician's assistant that he was wasn’t used to that kind of sudden, unsolicited public exposure. But Hawke waved it off, reassuring him that it was totally harmless and they both ended up laughing about it as Anders quipped, _“At least they didn’t catch me in scrubs! That would have been so unfashionable!”_

Hawke collected him in his arms when he turned and Anders fell smoothly on his lap. The business man nuzzled his neck, “You know what I just remembered?”

“Mhm?”     

“The first time you saw the kitchen.”

“Oh noo,” Anders laughed and buried his face in his hands knowingly.

Hawke wolfishly grinned. “You said: ‘that’s such a porny kitchen.’”

Anders squirmed on his lap in suppressed laughs, bringing things under Hawke’s waist to live in the process.

“For my defense I was tipsy.” 

“No you weren’t! You said that it was the kind of swanky, fancy kitchen background you’d see in a porn video.”

Anders groaned as Hawke chuckled to his heart content, feeling the vibrations of the black haired man’s throat under his touch. He puffed his chest as if he wasn’t really bothered by the embarrassment and pouted off-handedly, “Yeah okay, well it’s not my fault you have a hand carved marble counter imported from Italy in a kitchen that looks like it had just been gift-unwrapped.”

Hawke was skimming his fingers all over the blond’s skin, humming in amusement as he traced the curves of his spine and hipbones slowly, making the blond man twitch and pleasurably undulate in his lap. “And it was worth every dollar when we did it on top of it.”

“You mean our fucking was worth twenty five thousand dollars?” bemused Anders.

“If you’d like, this couch is less expensive if I remember correctly,” he prompted roguishly.

“Nice transition, well… maybe after dinner? I’m just so starving right now. Though I don’t think burritos are the best aphrodisiac afterwards.”

“You’re a whole aphrodisiac on your own, babe. And it’s all right, of course we eat first.”

Anders chuckled. “Always unpredictably romantic.” 

The dark haired man chuckled and held the milky, nude planes tighter at once. “Missed you,” he murmured in the quietness of the dimly lighted loft.

“Missed you too.” The response was smooth and unfeigned and just glided like second nature over Hawke by now.

Only then that Hawke eased his hold to let him sit properly next to him and start taking off the foil from their warm food. They switched on the TV and Netflix, and When Anders took a forkful of the salad, Hawke said,

“Do you how much we’re going to be happy?”

Anders turned to face him still munching and Hawke smiled at his puffed cheeks from under the rim of his coke.

The surprised blond features relaxed instantly into a soft eyes-sparkling smile. “I can’t imagine be much happier than how I am right now.”

Hawke’s cheeks warmed as he tried to hide it behind his can.

Only Anders managed to warm his cheeks and flutter his stomach at the mere peek of that ice-melting smile.

Only Anders had managed to break through his deffensive arsenal as lightly as lifting a spell with a kiss. The man himself wasn't really aware of it but Hawke knew. Anders was his kryptonite. And things might be perfect right now, but a distant part of him didn't know how he would react if he ever lost his grip on this precious weakness someday.

He truly didn't know.

“Come here.”

Hawke stretched his arm for Anders to burrow against him and they snuggled against each other - Anders’ head against Hawke’s chest, Hawke’s right arm around him, plucking a spicy doritos into his mouth with the other hand as the large screen started their favorite TV show... 


End file.
